Eren's glare pushes closer to a real one. That fucking smirk. He knows Jean is pushing his buttons as sure as he's working to push Jean's, but that knowledge doesn't stop it from working.

Despite the look on his face, Eren doesn't fight when Jean moves him. He readjusts so his head isn't hanging off the edge so he won't get dizzy. He's trying to stay as present as possible for the time being.

There's a sharp intake of breath through his nose at the first touch of Jean's fingers. He probably wouldn't care too much about prep. Oil matters for ease, but he could have just taken Jean's cock without his hands. Still, he doesn't have much to complain about here. Two fingers at once isn't nice but it's not too much, either, not with how worked up Eren is already. His head falls back on the pillow and his legs open wider without needing to be coaxed or told.

"Jean, fuck," he says, pretence of anger or resistance at least momentarily forgotten.